The Elder Scrolls VI: Elsweyr
by NinjaBlademaster
Summary: A sequel to the last single-player installment of The Elder Scrolls, Skyrim. It takes place in Elsweyr, the home of the cat-like Khajiit. Criticisms/comments are welcome!
1. Outsider

Qa'Miir woke up to the crash of a tree falling to the forest floor. _Another dead, _he thought. _Another fall._

It wasn't the most pleasant of days; the torrents of rain from the previous day had given the forest a shiny veneer of water. The boggy earth was further soaked in murky wetness that only the inhabitants of Tenmar could consider normal. Qa'Miir could only hope the mood of the other Khajiit would be in a better condition than the weather.

"You! Outsider!" a shout came from near the fallen tree. "Help us scatter these! Ja'Rikh fell from here just a half hour ago."

It took a considerable amount of _inner_ strife for Qa'Miir to grow accustomed to this type of treatment. It was not a shock to him that the Khajiit of Tenmar would treat him like the outsider that he really was. The tale of how a digitigrade-footed biped Khajiit like himself had come to the swamps of Tenmar was shrouded in uncertainty and mystery. What he could discern from the varied descriptions and assumptions was that he was a newborn orphan found in the deep jungle, on a dark night. He was collected from the misty darkness of the night by a Tojay elder by the name of Ajudro, who only produced him months later, and refused to state when the orphan was discovered.

When the Tojay and Dogi Khajiit of the jungle first laid eyes upon him, they saw a strangeness in him. He was a small, agile, and stealthy biped, who possessed a surprising amount of physical prowess. They immediately came to a conclusion: he was not one of them. Qa'Miir was set apart from all known breeds of Khajiit by a unique appearance. His digitigrade feet were combined with peculiar fur that changed color to help him blend in with the area, as well as keep him safe in accordance with the surrounding weather and climate. Qa'Miir also proved himself an astute learner and tactical genius on the battlefield.

Yet all these talents did was push him away from those around him.

Qa'Miir was a naturally modest person, yet the other Khajiit saw that his abilities made him seem even more different from them. Qa'Miir eventually came to understand this, and realize that those around him respected him, but did not consider him one of them.


	2. Deceiving Trap

Once the scattering of the tree was done, Qa'Miir decided to accompany a hunting party of thirteen that would be going to the western end of the jungle. They each wore full leather armor with metal implants near vital organs and vulnerable areas of the body. The supple yet strong leather was underneath a sewn layer of cloth with a mottled pattern that suited the jungle colors. The irregular pattern broke up the wearer's shape and helped them blend in with the background. They also wore cowls made of the same cloth, with a mask that covered the mouth and nose.

While the regular quarry consisted of birds and the other exotic rainforest life, but there were the occasional Bosmeri scouts hailing from Valenwood. They also tended to stumble upon small Argonian raiding parties, which were dealt with before they could even get close.

"Always better to get them from afar," Dro'Ziyha, one of the more experienced hunters, would always repeat. "Lizards like to bite, so end their sorry lives before they can have a jab at yours."

At times when the Tenmari were seeking the thrill of hunting more difficult prey, they would deliberately track down such parties and finish them off. Years of hunting in the thick forests had given them a surplus of tutelage on stealth, tracking, and lethality. However, there was only one group that these predators did not consider available prey; where more stealth came in to play as opposed to lethality. The Aldmeri Dominion agents known as the Thalmor were High Elves with incredible arcane abilities. They also harbored a ruthlessness that could not be matched by even the Dark Brotherhood's assassins. The Dominion was the second of its kind, with the first succeeding in enslaving all Tamrielic races, save for the nomadic Redguards of the desert province Hammerfell.

The Khajiit all around Elsweyr may have once been in the debt of the High Elves for their alleged restoration of the moons Masser and Secunda, on which the Khajiit were highly dependent. However, the debt was considered more than repaid when the Mane was assassinated by Thalmor residing in Elsweyr. Ever since, they have developed a hatred for the elves, one that they could not act upon if they wished to keep their bodies in one piece.

Qa'Miir decided to take advantage of his digitigrade feet and small stature to roam the canopy, giving him an extended view, as well as a relatively safe position. Any creatures that would pose a threat to the hunters would not be sustained by the withering branches. _People have a tendency to never look up_, he had learned, and continued to repeat. Qa'Miir's position also meant that he would be able to bound onto anything below him if it need be. The Khajiit had also learned from experience that they were not the only hunters in the jungle. They kept a pair of sweepers who would seek concealment under dense patches of shrubbery and give them notice of any possible threat.

After a few hours of tracking a group of half a dozen Argonian bandits, Khayji, the forward scout, gave a signal that they were near.

"You six, over there. Climb up these trees and hang the heavy net," Qa'Miir instructed. "Now go back there, and hang the light net on pulleys, and a bit lower. Darjo, set up a shackle rope below the heavy net, and make sure it's concealed behind the bushes. Also, now that I think of it, lower the front end of the light net so it's tilted...Yes, perfect. Khayji and Joqel, take cover behind these bushes. You four take cover in pairs, about...fourteen arm-lengths behind Khayji and Joqel. You are going to watch for any escapees and finish them off. I'll climb up here, and anyone who runs that way is my kill."

Qa'Miir surveyed his work, reviewing the scenario in his mind's eye. The lightweight net was positioned at the very front, and the frontmost end of it was slightly lower than the rear end, to give it a tilt. The net was lowered to the point that it would be clearly visible to the Argonian raiders. The tactic was that the raiders, seeing the apparently faulty tilt, would rush forward to avoid the net once confronted by the four visible hunters. The heavier net was well concealed, yet effective. Once the bandits darted forward to kill the hunters they could see, they would be caught by the shackle concealed by light bushes. They would be stuck in place, and the heavy net could be dropped onto them with ease. Any who tried to escape would be caught by the six hunters taking cover behind the shrubbery if they ran to the flanks, or finished by Qa'Miir himself if they attempted to flee forward. An attempt at darting backwards would lead to them becoming entangled in the lightweight net.

If, for example, a Bosmer party appeared, the Khajiit could climb up the trees, leaving the Argonians for the Bosmer to pick off at ease, and leaving the Bosmer for the Khajiit to do the same to them.

While Qa'Miir had apparently considered all possibilities, there was only one circumstance that could not be accounted for: enemies they couldn't defeat. And there was only one such enemy.


	3. Silhouette

Qa'Miir's devious tactic had proven to be fruitful. As expected, the Argonian bandits were caught in the clever trap.

The reason this trap yielded positive outcomes was that it took advantage of the natural pride present in all creatures. The unwary prey who stumbled upon this would have assumed that they had foiled an attempt at their lives by noticing the lighter net, only to fall victim to their own carelessness. _One tends to think they are smarter than they really are, _Qa'Miir realized._  
_

He observed carefully. At first, the outlaws were oblivious to any kind of trap, genuine or false. Their lead scout was the one to alert the remaining five of the visible net, speaking the common tongue in the raspy voice the Argonians possessed. They also had very little regard for any form of grammar.

"Captain Yure-Shi! A net is forward!" he exclaimed. "Khajiit as well, four!"

"Not very good at stealth, this band," one of the hunters commented to his comrade quietly. "Blundering around like that, shouting your discoveries, is the best way to alert your enemies."

"Not very good at stealth, and apparently not the brightest," his partner replied in kind. "Qa'Miir's plan is clever, but I think he worked too hard to catch these half dozen. They look dumb enough to try and sheathe their blades in their own throats."

The outlaws were armed with an array of swords and daggers, perfect for slitting the throats of the unwary. They wore studded hide armor, with assorted iron and leather helms on their heads. Bandits and raiders such as themselves did not put much emphasis on stealth; they were accustomed to facing simple villagers and hunting down unarmed caravans for plunder. Little did they know, they were being hunted themselves.

As the Argonians rushed forward, the lightweight net was dropped, just slowly enough for them to escape it. In a blind, prideful fury, they sprinted towards the four Khajiit hunters, not noticing the thick shackle rope just behind the low bushes. The speed at which they were running was more than enough for the rope to wind around their legs, binding them. Immediately, the heavy net dropped from above to keep the raiders rooted in place. However, three of the more nimble Argonians, including the captain, managed to free themselves from the shackle rope, and they ran their separate ways. Two of them ran back on the path they emerged from, only to become entangled in the web-like net that was a blocking their evasion. The two trios of hunters concealed in the mists and shrubbery emerged and slit their throats. The captain made the apparently optimum decision, which was to dart forward. Qa'Miir waited for the desired moment, then leapt from the canopy's branches, blade in hand, onto Yure-Shi. As he landed, he drove the blade into the back of his neck, shattering his ribcage and spine with a sickening crunch.

An authoritative, and foreign, voice from the foggy woods called from the trees, "Well, well... What do we have here? I have to say, that was an excellent piece of tactics..."

A tall silhouetted figure emerged from the nearby trees, clapping slowly.

"Who the hell are you?!" shouted one of the hunters angrily.

"You don't want to find out..."


	4. Outnumbered

It took approximately ten seconds for the Khajiti hunters to discern, to their horror, that the speaker was a Thalmor agent, a male to be specific. They could make this deduction based on the physical build, voice, and an air of arrogance that the High Elves carried and cultivated. This self-assurance and pride stemmed from the Altmer's assumption that they were descended _directly_ from the Aedra themselves, causing them to believe they were superior to the other races of Nirn.

_He's only one_, Qa'Miir though. _He may be Thalmor, but we outnumber him thirteen to one. Hard odds to beat, even for a High Elf..._

Any hopes that the hunters may have harbored were immediately dispelled by the next statement. "Oh, of course I'm not alone...You do realize I'm not the filthy, lowlife scum that you are; I actually engage in strategic thinking that your kind are incapable of."

Slowly, two dozen Thalmor emerged from their concealed spots in the dense foliage. The Khajiti immediately lost all hopes triumph, and any possibility of flight; the Mer had encircled them from all directions.

"We're here for the Mane — and why we seek him is no concern of yours."

"No concern of ours? Well it's none of yours, then, especially since you _murdered_ him," Darjo hissed, spitting on the ground before the feet of the Altmeri. "Even if he were alive, you've no right to capture him."

"Well in that case, _extreme_ measures might be required here to resolve the situation," the Thalmor party's leader said. Turning to his men, he continued, "Please dispose of these..._savages_ at your leisure."

Qa'Miir's mind raced. He was about to be killed, along with his comrades, but he couldn't find a plausible scenario that involved any of the Khajiit present surviving. He decided that they had to put up a fight, but would also have to accept their fate. For one such as himself, who placed a great deal of dependence on tactics and elaborate plans, he was forced to use his physical prowess and skills to better his chances of survival. Despite this, his chances did not seem to go anywhere greater than zero.

The Thalmor began their onslaught. The High Elves were not at all renowned for bodily strength, or skill with blade or bow. What they did use to dominate were the arts of Magnus; the arts of the mage. The Mer began a deadly combination of Destruction spells, combined with Conjurations to befuddle and confuse the hunters. Unable to reply to these attacks in kind, the Khajiit put valiant efforts into firing their bows or slashing at the High Elves. A valiant effort, yet a failed one; only Qa'Miir managed to climb atop the weak branches of the canopy, darting in all directions to avoid the arsenal of Destruction magic aimed at his very life. He managed to shoot four of them with quick, accurate, and lethal arrows. He then bounded onto another with blade in hand, crushing him under his feet while slitting his throat. Qa'Miir's sole efforts had no effect on the Thalmor, however. They cared little for their comrades and spent no time forging the tight bonds of friendship that had resulted in the cooperation and coordination of the Khajiti hunters. Qa'Miir faded into the shadows of the jungle, shooting down a further three, then running his blade through the hearts of six Altmer. Despite the death of fourteen High Elves, the remaining eleven were more than a match for the lone Qa'Miir, as they were composed of the party leader and his inner circle of expert mages.

Qa'Miir's killing spree was brought to a halt as the leader fired a bolt of spellcraft at him that immobilized his body, but did not touch the mind. Qa'Miir was only able to watch as two Thalmor agents dragged him over to their superior.

"Ah, what do we have here? The one who killed _fourteen_? A great bit of skill, for a savage," the leader began. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kivamiel, the Master of Alinor. Who in Auri-El's name are you?"

Qa'Miir was not one to be bowed, bent, broken. He was clever enough to realize his limitations and how much of an advantage his adversaries had over his lone figure. "I'm a hunter," he stated blandly.

"Not a very accomplished one, it seems," Kivamiel said in a derogatory tone. "What I meant, and what intelligent races would have _understood_, was that I am asking your _name_. It really is no surprise that your wits are not up to the challenge."

_Keep on underestimating me_, Qa'Miir thought. _That way, you'll only realize your mistake with a dagger in your skull_. "I am called Qa'Miir," he continued, in the same featureless, plain fashion.

"Well then, savage, you'll have to come with us. With the right types of..." Kivamiel hesitated, then found the word. "Persuasion, you should prove to be a useful asset for our cause."

Qa'Miir flared inside with rage at the suggestion of him serving the Thalmor. "To hell with your cause, murderers! You killed the Mane, and there hasn't been one since. The Stormcloaks and Imperials in Skyrim have set apart their differences, and the odds are they're going for _you_ next!"

"No matter," Kivamiel said nonchalantly, waving his hand in a careless gesture. "They won't be a threat to the children of the gods!"

Kivamiel gestured to one of his men to knock Qa'Miir out. Qa'Miir was still under the effects of the immobilization spell, so he could only helplessly watch as a Thalmor agent walked towards him. From behind him, Kivamiel called, "You're coming with us, _cat_. And you're going to tell us where the Mane is."


	5. Still

Qa'Miir recovered from the immobilizing spells, and woke up to find himself bound in coils of volatile magic, staring up at the night sky. He was on a horse-drawn cart trudging slowly through a vaguely familiar village.

"W-w-where are we?" Qa'Miir asked his captors in a ragged voice.

"Quiet, cat!" was the response he received, followed by the crackling sound of a whip lashing his left eye. Qa'Miir closed it just in time to save what was effectively a half of his eyesight.

The blood trickled over his left eye, blurring and reddening his vision. What he did manage to see through the red haze was a bustling town full of active Khajiit, walking and running and talking. All of this activity was immediately halted upon first sight of the Thalmor party with a bruised, dazed, and bloodied prisoner in their midst. Hushed murmurs and near-silent whispers arose from the spectators. The observers did not have the foolishness to look into the eyes of the Altmer. It was a belief instilled by the High Elves themselves that it was a breach of respect to gaze into the eyes of the elves. Qa'Miir, naturally defiant, did not care for this belief, which had earned him a fair share of whip lashes and bruises.

All of a sudden, the caravan of Thalmor stopped.

"Filthy cats!" Kivamiel announced. "We have one of yours, from those marshy wastes you call 'Tenmar,' and he will be telling us where your Mane is."

Building up with fury, his fists balled, Qa'Miir bellowed, "No...I WON'T TELL YOU ANYTHING!"

As he shouted, the moons Masser and Secunda shone so bright, they blinded the Elves and the spectating Khajiit alike. Qa'Miir was still trembling with rage at the arrogance and assumed superiority of the Elves.

"Imbecile! You should not, and _will_ not DARE do that again! Understand?" Kivamiel retorted. He then turned towards the onlookers and continued, "And you, savages. Don't get any ideas. Here, I'll give you a demonstration of our capabilities."

Kivamiel's "demonstration" consisted of burning an onlooking child into a pile of ash, soot, and melting skin. All that was left were the charred bones of the girl in a heap on the side of the street.

"Master. I think we should...convince the prisoner to tell us where the Mane is," one of the High Elves said aloud.

"Ah, of course we should!" Kivamiel replied.

Kivamiel's fingertips shot out beams of magic that dropped Qa'Miir to his knees. The Thalmor leader then conjured a dark, forbidding, horrendous Atronach like none he had ever seen before.

"Say it now, and we can make this quick!" Kivamiel informed his captive.

"Never," Qa'Miir hissed. "Not even until the end of times."

And then everything was still.


End file.
